


trust fall

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Aftercare, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demoncest, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Injury, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Magic, Praise Kink, Vore, also known as a Normal Tuesday, just a casual eat your human story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: “And I thoughtIcould sleep through anything.”Awareness comes slow and with the lingering sensation of pain. It grows with every breath, until there is no denying that something is wrong with his side. He reaches down to clutch at his stomach only to feel something wet and warm coat his fingers. Further down is the sensation of hair, a tugging at his stomach butdeeper--Matteo’s eyes fly open with a gasp. He lurches upright only to be caught around the middle by Belphegor's arm.“I wouldn’t do that. You know how Beel gets about his meals.”
Relationships: Beelzebub/Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	trust fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashbel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashbel/gifts).



> I was Secret Santa for the lovely ashbel/otomeman in our server 
> 
> He asked for attic sandwich club, monsterboys and bath time so hopefully I did Matteo justice 
> 
> I hope you like it 💜🖤💜🖤

It starts as it always does: in darkness, with the faint whisper of magic at the edge of his senses. It’s a familiar sensation and one that no longer alarms him. He knows who it belongs to, just as he knows that he is safe.

Many would say it is his compliance with the supernatural that will be his eventual downfall, both human and demon alike. 

“Matteo,” Belphie rasps. “Wake up.”

An odd sentence coming from Belphie of all people. It’s enough to have Matteo’s eyelashes fluttering. 

“Five more minutes.”

There’s a soft chuckle, the brush of skin against skin. Beneath it all is a strange _pop crunch_ that he assumes is Beel eating, though what it could be is uncertain. There’s no scent on the air to give away its origins. 

“And I thought _I_ could sleep through anything.” 

Awareness comes slow and with the lingering sensation of pain. It grows with every breath, until there is no denying that something is wrong with his side. He reaches down to clutch at his stomach only to feel something wet and warm coat his fingers. Further down is the sensation of hair, a tugging at his stomach but _deeper_ \--

Matteo’s eyes fly open with a gasp. He lurches upright only to be caught around the middle by Belphegor's arm. 

“I wouldn’t do that. You know how Beel gets about his meals.”

He does know, in fact. The reminder of a tongue down his throat, choking the air from his lungs and taking the food he’d been in the process of consuming is hard to forget.

He’d just never thought he’d be the meal in question.

There’s so much red on his skin - blood, his mind supplies - smeared onto his chest, his thighs. It stains Beel’s claws as he clutches at Matteo’s waist. There’s a hole in his stomach, right where Beel’s mouth is; the source of all the blood.

The reaction to seeing his own insides is a visceral, human feeling. It instills a fear in him that threatens to steal what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Easy,” Belphie mutters. His lips press against Matteo’s shoulder, fangs grazing the ink of his pact seal. “You’re fine.”

 _‘Fine’_ is not something normally associated with a hole in someone’s stomach. 

“Bells - “

“You’re doing so well, you didn’t even flinch when he broke through the skin.” His claws drag up Matteo’s sides, adding raised red lines to his already ravaged skin. “How’s it feel?”

“Hurts,” Matteo admits. Still, there is another sensation joining the pain, born from the hungry look in Beel’s eyes, the husk of Belphie’s voice in his ear. It is only exacerbated by the arm that rests between his legs. 

Beel growls; Belphie laughs.

“Are you really getting turned on right now?” A claw runs up his side, collects some of the blood there. Matteo shivers when Belphie’s tongue darts out to taste it. “Fuck, you’re _perfect_.”

Beel’s teeth clamp down and _tear_ . Matteo can hear the wet sound as some unknown part of him is taken and consumed - no, not taken, _given_. He’s not struggling, after all, despite the very real human instincts that say he should be. Self preservation begs him to do something not in his power. To get away, to free himself from his demonic lovers. It is one of the last things that he actually wants.

Their pact marks light up on his skin. They vibrate with the strength of their bond, the power under his skin. 

They are just as much his as he is theirs; body and soul. Literally, in this case.

Belphie grasps his chin and pulls him into a slow kiss. He swallows the soft whimper Matteo makes when Beel’s arm presses further up into the apex of his thighs.

“Beel’s too invested in his meal, but I don’t mind picking up the slack.” Belphie’s smile is a vicious thing, full of knives and thinly disguised malice. Sometimes Matteo cannot help but wonder if he has truly given up on his crusade against the humans; if his pain hasn’t twisted him up inside for far too long to ever truly forgive. 

If Belphegor was to go after the human world, Matteo knows what he would do. The knowing glint in violet eyes tells him that Belphie knows too.

“Beel,” he rasps. “Lift his hips for me.” 

Beel growls but it is all posture. All petulant grumbling. His arm shifts, curls under Matteo’s lower back and lifts. It’s enough for Belphie to position himself beneath them both, cock pressing forward to curl into Matteo’s heat. 

His head falls back against Belphie’s shoulder with a soft moan. Though Belphie is rather adventurous as far as his powers go, nothing has prepared Matteo for the juxtaposition of Beel’s relentless mouth and Belphie’s lazy hip rolls. 

Tears streak down his face as the pain intensifies. It is as if a dial is slowly being turned up, which screams entirely of Belphegor’s powers. His breathing speeds, ragged gasps escaping parted lips. 

There’s another crunch, a swallow. The edges of Matteo’s vision begin to turn white.

“Easy,” Belphie murmurs. His hand presses against the center of Matteo’s chest where he can feel the frantic beat of his heart. “Breathe. I know you can.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and then another, another. The inflation of his lungs tugs at torn skin, draws his eyes back down to where Beel’s head rests. There’s still _so much blood_ , spilling onto his skin, the sheets, staining everything a deep crimson. How long has Beel been at this? Furthermore, how is he still _alive_?

“We would never let you go.” Belphie bites down on his seal pointedly. “You’re _ours_.”

Matteo feels the words resonate past his bones, all the way down to his soul. It eases human instinct, soothes some of the alarm bells. 

His hand shakes when he lifts it to pet Beelzebub’s hair. There’s a soft chuffing sound before his head lifts. 

Beel’s face is a mess of blood. It drips from his mouth, slides down his chin and stains his chest. His tongue slides out of his mouth and sweeps up over his own cheek as he stares up at Matteo with burning, hooded eyes. 

“Delicious,” he practically growls. 

Belphie muffles a groan in Matteo’s shoulder when his muscles clamp down around his cock. 

“I think it’s time for the main course,” Belphie breathes. “Beel?”

Beel doesn’t pause in his slow ascent up Matteo’s arm. He holds his wrist in his hand as his mouth trails bitemarks up soft skin. A human body has no defense against his sharp teeth; Matteo’s flesh gives easily under pressure. 

He reaches Matteo’s heaving chest, pauses there, still and unnaturally silent. The danger of him accidentally biting off Matteo’s tongue is too great to risk kissing him, but Matteo’s mouth aches all the same. 

Belphegor’s hands slide up the notches of his ribs. He squeezes lightly, meaningfully. His voice is hot against Matteo’s ear. “Will you give your heart to us?”

Beel’s claws bite into his skin.

“Will you let us devour you?”

Breathing becomes difficult as the pressure on his chest increases. A soft sob escapes his lips when the first rib cracks.

“Be ours in all ways.” Belphie’s tongue drags up over the bruises he’s been painting into Matteo’s shoulder. 

Beel’s claws tear open his skin to reveal his ribcage. A series of loud cracks fills the room as his teeth grind Matteo’s ribs into nothing.

Matteo startles when Belphie dips his hand down between his legs. Inside of him, his lover’s cock twitches. 

His world fades into Belphegor’s hand and Beelzebub’s mouth. He isn’t sure what’s pain and what’s pleasure anymore. Beel’s growls and Belphie’s ragged breathing fills his ears. His eyes close, thoughts going hazy beneath all the adrenaline. 

He’s squirming, thighs twitching on either side of Beel’s sides when Belphie speaks once more.

“Open your eyes.”

He does, though he isn’t quite sure how. Everything feels muted and distant as far as his body is concerned. His hand is taken, guided up to his chest. It’s pressed further in than he knows is normal, fingers curled around something hot and pulsing.

This time, it’s Beel’s voice that calls his attention.

“Give your heart to us. Let us have you.”

It takes a few long moments for Matteo’s sluggish mind to understand. His eyes fly down to the open cavity of his chest where his fingers rest curled around the organ that keeps him alive. His heart pulses frantically against his palm as he meets Beel’s gaze with wide eyes. 

“Trust us,” Belphie breathes.

He already does. 

Matteo’s fingers tighten, become unkind. He breathes out what could be a sob as his body screams in protest; does his best to ignore all the thoughts trying to break down the barrier between common sense and love. His lips tremble as he meets Beel’s eyes and _pulls_. 

He must pass out, must succumb to the pain. The next thing he knows he’s pressed between both of his lovers, spread open on them both and watching as they devour his heart with savage intent.

The sound of growls mingles with the meeting of skin. Every bit of Matteo’s gift is eaten, consumed without hesitation. When there is nothing left their mouths collide, tongues and teeth violent. Blood drips from their mouths and into the empty cavity of his chest.

He tries to choke out their names, tries to lift weak hands, but there is no more strength to be had.

“ _Yes_ ,” Belphie hisses, hips fucking up into his body with singleminded intent.

Matteo orgasms with the sound of his lover’s moans in his ears and _wakes up_.

“Easy,” Belphie murmurs. His hand pets over Matteo’s heaving side, gentle against his skin. “We’ve got you, just breathe.”

Beel chuffs behind him, nuzzles into his throat. “You’re safe.”

It’s enough for Matteo to break.

He shakes apart in their arms and finds himself running a hand down his chest, over his stomach. There are no wounds, no signs of Beel’s teeth and claws. 

“Just a dream,” Beel whispers. “You were so _good_.”

“Perfect,” Belphie agrees. 

Matteo’s head ducks but there is no place to hide when sandwiched between the two. His head turns, finding Beel’s mouth at long last to slot their lips together. 

It calms the remaining panic in his lungs and allows him to relax fully into the heat of the bath. The bath that he has only just noticed in his distraction.

“When - ?” 

Belphie smirks. “Brought you here to help clean up your mess.”

“We thought it’d be easier if you had a change of scenery.” Beel noses at the skin behind his ear, pets his sides and keeps him close. “There’s snacks and drinks in the other room in case you want them.”

He smiles tiredly. Belphegor’s dreams always leave him drained in more ways than one. 

“Thanks.”

“Thank _you_ .” Beel sounds raw in a way he only does when talking about mistakes of the past; of Lilith. It’s enough to have Matteo’s head turning to comfort him, though it is not sadness that he sees; the look of pure happiness and _awe_ on Beel’s face is enough to cause his thoughts to stutter. “You gave your heart to us.”

“It was already yours to begin with,” Matteo finds himself saying.

“You’re both a bunch of saps.” Belphie huffs and drags a washcloth over Matteo’s skin. There is no mistaking the pleased glint to his eyes, nor the small smile that curls the corners of his lips.

He’s happy; they both are.

Matteo’s eyes close as he relaxes into the gentle attention, the careful cleaning. He drifts between them, breathing going deep and steady. He wakes some when the tub drains.

“Got you,” Beel whispers as he scoops Matteo up into his arms. 

Belphegor pushes some of the hair out of his face and presses a kiss to Matteo’s forehead. “Sweet dreams,” he murmurs. 

A soft sigh leaves Matteo’s lips. He relaxes once more into Beel’s chest and trusts.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ apassintohell


End file.
